


Polyhexan Problems

by teh_gelfling



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Heatfic, M/M, Slash, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 12:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teh_gelfling/pseuds/teh_gelfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was supposed to be for the kinkmeme, but doesn't fit the prompt properly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polyhexan Problems

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel like it, leave a comment or critique. I love knowing what my readers like and don't like about my stories.

"Prowler!"

The black and white heaved a sigh at the nickname and turned to the mech addressing him just in time to be tackled. Warm, soft lips covered his and hands roamed his chassis in a decidedly inappropriate manner.

"Jazz--mmph!" He pushed the other mech off of him as his lips were captured again. He scrambled to his feet in as dignified a manner as he could and flexed his doorwings to make sure they hadn't been injured in any way.

Jazz lunged for him again and Prowl caught him by the wrists. "What is wrong with you? This behaviour is appalling and unbecoming of an officer."

"Want ya," was the husky response. "Right here, right now. Wanna feel yer spike in me." He pressed as close as he could to the slightly larger mech, writhing enticingly against him. His interface panel snapped open and thick lubricant ran down his legs, staining white thighs a deep purple. "Ah need ya, Prowler," the saboteur purred.

"You need to go to medbay. You're in heat. Ratchet can give you something to suppress the cycle." He turned in the direction of the medic's domain, the TIC clinging to him like a barnacle and trying his damndest to get the tactician worked up enough to 'face him senseless there in the corridor.

By the time Prowl dragged Jazz into medbay, his cooling fans were roaring and his codpiece was feeling quite restrictive. Ratchet glanced up from the maintenance he was doing on Tracks.

"Ratchet." The SIC winced at how rough his voice sounded. Damn Jazz and his groping. "Jazz requires your aid."

"Is it life-threatening?"

"Doubtful."

"Then sit him down and I'll see him when I'm done here." And he turned back to the blue warrior.

Jazz refused to sit unless it was on Prowl. The Datsun had no intention of letting that happen. Black fingers rubbed at his interface panel and he frantically overrode the automatic reaction in order to keep it closed.

The Porsche was practically climbing up Prowl's chassis, trying desperately to entice his chosen target--er, lover--into a good frag. Purple lubricant was streaked up and down the Praxian's lower half from all the grinding Jazz was doing on him.

Speaking of... "Primus below, Jazz! Stop that!" The humping stopped, then hands smoothed over his doorwings, playing with the handles and locks, tweaking the joints. Prowl shuddered under the onslaught and tried to catch the offending appendages.

Jazz danced just out of reach and faced the tactician, swaying seductively. His black fingers toyed with his spike housing, dipping in to stroke the head of his spike, then moving lower to trace the upper rim of his valve. Prowl watched, entranced despite himself, as first one finger, then two disappeared into the swollen port.

The saboteur moaned. "Ah, Prowler!" he cried. "Primus, take me now. Need ya real bad."

"Stars! You didn't say he was in heat, Prowl!" Ratchet exclaimed, coming up behind the visored mech. He grabbed hold of white forearms, keeping Jazz from assaulting the SIC again.

"Would it have made a difference?"

"Yes! He's Polyhexan. They're insanely unpredictable throughout their cycles."

"I believe you have at least half of that assessment correct," Prowl retorted, eyeing Jazz warily as he squirmed in the medic's hold.

Ratchet barked a laugh, his hands loosening their grip marginally. That was all the saboteur needed to pull free and launch himself at the Praxian.

Prowl's doorwings swept back in an attempt to protect them from the assault. "I would appreciate any assistance you can give." He pushed at his fellow black and white as the mech rubbed his interface array up and down his thigh.

"You, my friend, are screwed. There's not much I can do. I could give him suppressants, but that wouldn't stop him from trying to jump you, though he might not be quite as... enthusiastic about it."

"Please do. Anything would be preferable to this behaviour." The SIC sounded almost desperate.

"Mmm... Prowler..." Jazz moaned seductively as his fingers traced the glass of Prowl's headlights. The Datsun shuddered and his fans roared louder.

There was a click, loud in the relatively quiet medbay, and Prowl's interface cover opened, spike painfully pressurised. Jazz's optic band brightened and he reached eagerly for the slick shaft.

"Jazz!" Prowl's cry was strangled as a black hand closed over and stroked his spike. He pulled it away with a quiet moan, optics offlined while he tried to regain control.

"Primus, Prowl, just go frag him already. He's fixated on you--he won't pay any attention to anyone else, even if they were actively pursuing him. And the only way to stop the heat cycle is to spark him." Ratchet turned and walked toward his office. "Pits, frag him right there."

Prowl spluttered, trying to hold the amorous saboteur at bay. "No! Anyone could walk in and see!"

"I'll lock the doors. Problem solved. I'll be in my office." The CMO turned and smirked. "Have fun."

Jazz took immediate advantage of the medic's departure and climbed into the Datsun's lap, making sure to rub his dripping valve against the rigid spike. "Ah, Prowler! Need ya. Please. 'M beggin' ya." He lowered himself over Prowl, taking the blunt head inside.

The tactician's engine gave an involuntary rev and his vents stalled. "Jaaazz..." he moaned, gripping black hips. He wanted to push the Porsche away and pull him closer all at the same time. His body decided for him and he jerked up into the pulsing valve, crying out in pleasure as he did.

Jazz pushed his lover down onto the berth and rode him hard. His rhythm became increasingly erratic as he neared his climax and Prowl took over, thrusting lustily. Their moans and gasps and screams of ecstasy echoed through the empty medbay.

The saboteur's chest armour parted, revealing his spark. "Prowl!" he cried, writhing on the tactician's spike, trying to get closer.

"Oh, Primus! Jazz..." Prowl retracted his armour and pressed their sparks together. He was inundated with the other's pleasure and felt the overwhelming urge to mate that drove him. A haze of lust settled over his processor, clouding his higher functions until all he could think of was 'facing his mate into oblivion.

"Ah...ah...oh...!! Fragyes!" Jazz hit his climax first, his valve clamping down in waves on the thick shaft inside him. Lubricant washed around Prowl's spike and he overloaded hard, hot, thick transfluid flooding the Porsche's gestation chamber.

Jazz collapsed, sated for the time being, on top of Prowl, their armour sealing up once again. He snuggled in with a soft kiss and slipped into recharge as the Praxian stroked his roof, halfway to recharge himself.

*****

Jazz woke slowly. As his processor ran through its boot cycle, he realised that he was wrapped in someone's arms. He shifted slightly and felt a foreign presence in his valve. Tingles of pleasure zipped across his sensor net and he wondered what exactly he'd been drinking that night and who he was with.

He onlined his optics, visor glowing bright blue.

"Good morning."

Heat rushed to his face and he reset his optics to be sure he was seeing who seemed to be lying below him. "Aw, slag. 'M sorry, Prowler. Dunno what got inta me. Ah don' remember a thing." He moved to climb off the tactician but was halted by the tight grip of white hands on his hips.

"I believe," Prowl said with a wicked smile, "that I 'got into you.' Several times in fact." He rolled his hips, sending little shivers through the saboteur's chassis as his engorged spike slid against sensor nodes.

Jazz gaped. "Did ya just... ? 'M I dreamin'? This can't be happenin'."

"You went into heat, Jazz."

"Oh, Primus... And ya... Oh..." He buried his face in a black hand, thoroughly embarrassed. "Guess I'm sparked now, huh?"

"That would be the logical conclusion, according to Ratchet, as you seem to be yourself again."

"Well, 'least it's yers an' not some other mech's. Ah like most o' th' guys 'round here pretty well, but not enough ta have a sparklin' wi' 'em."

Prowl smiled. "I shall take that as a compliment."

"Definitely." He looked at the other black and white almost shyly. "C'n ah get a demonstration o' exactly what ah missed?"

"My quarters or yours?"


End file.
